A Twist Of Fate
by Lialioya
Summary: War is not patient, war is not kind. War brings drastic measures forward and unveils ugly truths about the people closest to you. A war between the Asgardians and an ancient adversary test the bonds of friendship and family alike. And at the heart of it all? Young Prince Loki and an elf who despise one another struggle to understand that survival will only be possible together.
1. The Time Beforehand

The inky black sky was still for only a moment before erupting into a thousand bright colors, swirling and dancing joyously, causing every spectator, even the reluctant ones, to gaze up in awe.

The vibrant spectrum that illuminated the sky was reflected in her wide and amazed eyes. She struggled to open them wider at the spectacular sight taking place before her. It was surreal.

Her mouth was open in shock, not believing the wonder she was witnessing. For confirmation that it was not all a dream, she squeezed the hand she clutched tightly. She briefly glanced at the face whom it belonged to, unwilling to believe she was actually awake.

The woman the hand belonged to smiled kindly down at the small girl, her astonishment and joy contagious. She knew the girl would love to take part in this years festival, and her decision was reinforced by the way the child stood rigid, unable to tear her eyes away from the wondrous colors. They chased each other across the sky in a constant battle for dominance, and the girl was spellbound by it all.

The woman looked back at the sky as well, not wanting to bring the child home, but knowing that the moment must end. With a slight squeeze of her hand, she slowly started to tug at the little girl.

"M'Lady," she said ever so gently to the child. "It is getting late, M'Lady. We ought to get you home."

The girl stirred to the womans requests slightly, not wanting to tear her eyes away from the sight that mesmerized her, but at the same time not wanting to cause a fuss. She slowly dragged her eyes away from the sky and lowered her chin. The woman softly pulled on the childs small arm, and without a word she turned and they took their leave.

After they were alone and no longer apart of the throng of awed spectators, the woman tried to make conversation. "Did you enjoy yourself, M'Lady?"

"Very much so!" Despite her silence up until that point, the girl was brimming with fresh awe and wonder. "They were so beautiful! Thank you so much for bringing me, Nanny."

"You're welcome, M'Lady," the woman smiled down at the girl who grinned brightly back at her. The woman's tight bun atop her head was as grey as dust, and she was clad in a simple maids attire, as she always was.

The small girl, however, sported an enviable blue dress with a perfect little bow on her head, letting any passerby know she was of high class, just as her mother had ordered.

The young lass readjusted her grip on Nanny as she jumped over a small puddle of rainwater. She also began to hum a tuneless melody, swinging their joint arms along with the eratic beat. Nanny was too busy craning her neck, squinting down the darkened street, searching for something.

"Did your mother say she was going to meet us here, or at your house?" Nanny asked.

The girl shrugged, too enraptured in her own fanciful thoughts to see the impatience in the elder woman's expression.

"Dallea - M'Lady," Nanny caught herself quickly. "It looks like we're going to have to stop in the center of town."

The girl nodded, eager to pounce on any excuse that would allow her to stay outside longer. Dallea allowed Nanny to drag her down a few cobblestone streets, until they arrived at a haggard little shack filled to the brim with extremely drunk people.

"Stay here, in this exact spot," Nanny commanded Dallea. The lass nodded, folding her hands behind her back as she watched her nanny push her way into the bar. She wondered to herself if, when Nanny dragged out her intoxicated mother, that she would be wearing a different dress than the one she wore earlier that day. Or maybe she would have lost the nice necklace she had fawned over that morning.

Dallea yawned, exhaustion making her shoulders slump and her senses dull slightly. Though when another firework went off in the sky not too far away, her eyes snapped open. She jumped slightly, her shortness making half of the spectacle lost among the rooftops obstructing her view.

An idea appeared in her mind, fueled by the desire to return to the festival; perhaps she could quickly run to the next street, just to see the colours in the sky a bit better?

_No! _Dallea immediately thought to herself. Absolutely not. Disobey Nanny? How silly she was to even think of it! The young lass was so busy shaking her head, she didn't hear the crunching of footsteps until they halted directly behind her.

She turned around, expecting a drunk adult to pat her on the head or something ridiculous. Though when she tilted back her head to see the person's face, an uneasy feeling washed through her. The being before her was tall, but not tall enough to be a grown up.

"Hello," Dallea whispered, her voice small as her hands clasp together instinctively. Recognition of the individual currently glaring at her made the girl shrink.

"_Hello,_" the person mocked, imitating Dallea in an extremely high and annoying voice.

Honestly, Dallea didn't know how to respond to that. Was she just going to be mimicked if she tried to inquire why the person was towering over her like that?

"Honestly, Piglet, I would have thought such a nice _lady _would have better manners than just a simple _hello._" The voice wasn't exactly rude, but it made Dallea's hairs stand on end.

Dallea shifted her weight from foot to foot. The crude nickname made her blink heavily, but she supposed she should be used to it by now.

"I do not know what you mean, Dyrati," the young lass said to the person. Her voice was so incredibly small, it was almost not heard.

"I mean, do you not pay attention to your _lady lectures?_" Dyrati nagged, bending her knees so she could face Dallea head-on. "Or does your whore of a mother forget sometimes?"

If Dallea had any shred of confidence she would have been upset at the foul names her mother was being called. Instead, she meekly bowed her head. "I don't know."

"How don't you know?" The anger came out of no where, but Dallea felt as well as heard it when Dyrati wrapped her hands around the girl's forearms. "How can you not know? How in Yggdrasil's Kingdom were chosen to go accompany a _Prince_ of _Asgard _if you can't remember?!"

"I-I don't know," Dallea repeated, her eyes round with fear. The unpredictable rage in the other girl's eyes was terrifying. She had witnessed Dyrati get mad before, but the fit she was throwing was simply childish as much as it was erratic.

"I don't understand. You are stupid, as well as the ugliest girl in this entire town," Dyrati pointed out. Dallea would have hid her face in shame if the bully hadn't started to shake her entire body in wrath-fueled jolts. "The only thing you have is money. That's not fair! Just because my mother didn't have a bastard child and become a second rate slut shouldn't mean _I _can't be chosen!"

Dallea didn't dare cry out. If she did, Dyrati would have gone ballistic. Instead, she whimpered as her neck began to ache from being thrashed around. Fortunately, Dyrati seemed to gain some composure, and release her captive.

The bully leaned in close to Dallea's face, staring straight into her eyes.

"I hope when you get to Asgard, you get executed for being so ugly, Piglet," Dyrati spat the cringe worthy nickname as if it was poison on her tongue. "Then I'll go to your funeral wearing my nicest, whitest clothes."

Dallea blinked back her tears as Dyrati leaned back.

"I _hate _you." Those were the last words said before Dallea watched Dyrati walk away.

The girl barely had time to wipe her eyes when Nanny emerged from the shack, with Dallea's mother in tow. Dallea watched her mothers head loll from side to side, as if her neck was made of rubber. She was absolutely blackout drunk, there was no mistaking that.

Her nanny looked furious, and didn't bother to stop and see why Dalleas face was decorated with tears. Though Dallea hung her head so low, it was hard to tell what the girl's face looked like, and she liked it that way. Maybe if she hid her face for the rest of her life, she wouldn't be executed.

"Keep up, Dallea," Nanny called over her shoulder at the girl who was having trouble keeping stride. What an interesting trio they were - and all heading for the grandest house as far as the eye could see. Dally dabbed her eyes and nearly tripped over her own two feet.

What is the point of having something so grand and nice if you can't even see it through your tears?

* * *

><p>The priceless vase shattered into a thousand pieces as it made contact with the wall. The silence that followed was so heavy he could almost touch it from where he stood at the opposite end of the room.<p>

Still, he felt not a trace of regret for what he did.

His breath was labored as if he had just run a long distance, but with the amount of pacing he had just finished he might have been. He stared at the mark he made in the wall for a few seconds longer before looking away, agitation flooding back with full force.

"Accompaniment." He spat the word bitterly as if it was poison. "I do not need any _accompaniment._ "

He recalled vividly the conversation he had with his father when he was explaining what exactly would go on in the next year or so. Though when his frivolous father finally stopped blathering, his vision was bright red. He bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

A _peasant?_ In the _castle?_ Accompanying him in his everyday tasks?!

Who in the nine realms came up with such a ridiculously idiotic idea?

He remembered his father spoke about "Not appreciating the outside world", which, in his own opinion, was so utterly stupid he thought throwing himself off the nearby bridge seemed more appealing.

But no one cared much for his opinion.

He has lived through a few guests of the lower class indeed, but none had accompanied him in such a way as his father described.

He finally became sick of pacing in his dark and dreary room, even though most times he found comfort in it. He needed air.

He made an abrupt turn towards the door and flung it open, letting it slam against the wall. He made sure everyone in earshot heard his disdain. He quickly strode down the hall, making his strides quick and pureposeful. He didn't want to run into anyone, in case they irritated him further.

He went a bit farther down the hall before stopping at a tapestry, and he was about to move it aside when he heard an achingly cheerful voice.

"Brother!"

The boy tensed, not wanting to turn to the person hurrying down the corridor to him, but also not wanting to give away his passage, so he settled for a disgruntled glare. "What do you want, Thor?"

Thor tried not to seem to wounded by his tone, but even the boy noticed his smile waver before glimmering like before, as if Thor was attempting to blind him. "Brother, I was wondering if you wanted to join me and my friends for a fighting tournament-"

"No," the boy cut off Thor sourly. "I have no interest in such things."

Thor did a double take on his brothers behavior. "But Loki, last time you said you wished I had invited you."

"I have changed my mind, is that such a foul prospect?" His tone caused Thor to purse his lips ever so slightly. "Now, if you will excuse me."

Thor nodded, backing away and trying for another forced smile. "Well, if you require anything. . ."

Loki waited until Thor had vanished behind a corner before pulling aside the tapestry to reveal a large jut in the wall, which he quickly applied pressure to. The wall made not a sound while rocks moved aside to show a yawning dark hole, and he wasted no time melting into it.

He was already far away when he heard the door close, and its echo was his footstep's only companion. Not that he minded silence or darkness. In fact, he longed for it, especially when his vexing brother was in the room, ruining everything with his brilliant perfection.

Soon he reached the end of the tunnel, tiny fragments of light swirling down through holes and making the small but infinite dust particles visible. He raised his arms up and brushed his hands against the stone slab that entombed him, and it moved aside noisily, contrasting violently with his entrance into the tunnel.

He climbed out of the tunnel and onto slightly damp grass as he used to do so often, until he found other things to do. He brushed himself off and walked away from the slab as it slowly closed.

The tunnel, as he already knew, had taken him far away from the castle and to a large hill overlooking the vast land that was his home. The grand palace of Asgard shone in the moons bright light and glowed even brighter as he could see the far off peasants celebrating the harvest festival. They were nice, he guessed, but a completely wasting their time. They could be doing more productive things, after all.

He leaned against the desolate tree that grew on the otherwise naked hill, warped and bent almost as if made that way so he could rest on it if he pleased.

Watching the brilliant colors sparkle in the distance made him feel forsaken, even more than the tree that supported him. More than anything he just wanted to be left alone, he want to be in the sidelines, do his own thing and have no one question him.

He let out a soft sigh, almost inaudible even though there was no one around to jeer him. He did not know if that was the problem or not.

He was lonely, more than envious, more than vexed, he was simply so isolated it started to get to him. He started to wonder.

Having someone that is forced to follow him around would be a change. At least he would have someone to overshadow since there was no doubt that a peasant would be worse than him in everything.

Maybe, but it could also just be another pest that he would have to avoid at all costs.

"Loki!" He was jarred out of his thoughts by the sudden shout, that also caused him to jump slightly. "Loki, you know you're not supposed to be out of the castle at this time of night!"

He recognized the voice as his mothers, and he groaned internally. He waited impatiently for the day when he could do something without his parents nagging him or breathing down his neck.

"Coming, mother!" Loki responded. He gave the tree one last forlorn glance, knowing that a stern scolding was ahead before descending down the hill to where his mother stood, disapproval clear in her eyes.

"Thrice I have caught you out past your curfew." Queen Frigga shook her head at her son as he kept his gaze on the floor, kicking the ground halfheartedly. "This time I am afraid you will have to suffer the consequences."

As she turned to lead him inside, he tried to hide his mischievous smile, but knew it was not meant to be so while whispering, "When am I not?"


	2. The Ugly Duckling

**All I can say is; it's good to be back.**

**That's a lie, I have to add my disclaimers. I don't own anything, aside from my various original characters, including Dallea, and majority of the plot line. If did own it all, I would probably be in a yacht somewhere. This goes for the entire story.**

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><p>She awoke to the rush of the wind as it blew through her open windows, sending the curtains swirling. Dallea stirred slightly as the cool breeze brushed against her motionless face, and cracked an eye when it continued.<p>

She rolled over in bed, yawning broadly then settling back into the covers, sinking into its warmth and to return to the realm of sleep she had just been dragged from.

Miraculously, her sluggish mind recalled exactly what day it was.

Her eyes snapped open as emotion flared in her chest, one she knew only too well as panic and fear. Her limbs struggled to obey her frantic commands, but whilst ripping off the covers and diving into the washroom, she stumbled many times.

She examined her bedraggled hair, sitting atop her head as if hoping to attract a bird. Reaching for her brush, then taking back her hand, she eventually decided to let Nanny style her hair. She would know what the proper braid would look like, since she had been to the palace of Asgard many times.

"Some of the finer women at the palace where their hair like a flower." Dallea heard Nanny's voice in her head as she recalled the tale which she had listened to with rapt attention. "Their strands resemble delicate petals, just like the beauties we see in the meadows."

Dallea secretly hoped she would not have to wear her hair in such a way, fearing she would somehow morph it into looking more like a dung pile than a beautiful flower.

"M'Lady?" She heard Nanny's voice call from the other room, and the distinguishable _tap tap_ of her footsteps.

"I am in here, Nanny."

Nanny peeked into the washroom and smiled, offering a small curtsy, as she did every morning. Dallea always felt self conscious just watching, so she had decided to return the small bow to Nanny, whose smile always grew.

"Good morning, M'Lady." Nanny stepped into the bathroom, a fine ocean blue silk dress draped over her arm.

"Good morning, Nanny." Dallea cautiously peered at the fabric, checking to see if it was one of those attires that were designed by Mares themselves, trying to squeeze the life right out of the one who wore it. Nanny caught her hesitant gaze.

"Your mother herself had this tailored, rest assured M'Lady," Nanny chuckled slightly. "Crafted just for you."

Dallea nodded, not wanting to show her doubts to Nanny, who she saw looked enthused to begin getting Dallea ready. Instead she began to remove her nightgown as Nanny delicately placed the dress aside for the moment and began to fill the tub with steaming water, so Dallea could bathe herself.

"I will be right back, M'Lady," Nanny said while she slipped out of the bathroom to run a quick errand as Dallea washed herself.

After stepping into the tub, Dallea fully submerged herself under the soapy water and let her face twist into panic. Why her? What would happen if she accidentally let something slip and her and her mother were punished?

She emerged once more, and put the thought to the back of her mind while she washed and dried herself.

"Nanny, can you help me with the buttons?" Dallea called, hoping Nanny was in the next room so she would not have to try and force the pesky buttons into place. Fortunately she heard Nanny's reply, and she soon felt the old woman's calloused hands fastening her smooth dress, that resembled water as it lapped upon a peaceful shore. Her neckline was studded with various stones, and she instantly noticed how they weighed her down.

"Do you like it, M'Lady?"

Dallea nodded silently, and sat on her special stool, like always, waiting to feel the steady brush running through her hair, Nanny miraculously not causing even a small twinge of pain, despite the many knots sprinkled in her blond mane.

"Are you excited, M'Lady?" Nanny asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes," replied Dallea, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Even a stranger could see you are terrified, M'Lady. Your shoulders are trembling dreadfully!"

Dallea sighed slightly, letting her ramrod posture ease a bit when her shoulders sagged, as if burdened heavily. "I am indeed frightened, Nanny, but you must understand-"

"I do understand, M'Lady," Nanny soothed Dallea by running her fingers through her hair, readying herself to style it. "I just want to explain how this is not something to fret over! You will do absolutely fine, and I am certain of that. Now remember your posture. You mustn't be slouching while in the company of princes!"

Dallea straightened herself and waited patiently for Nanny to complete weaving her hair into an intricate pattern. In the mean time, she started to wonder what the palace looked like. She remembered Nanny describing that as well.

"You would love it, M'Lady." The awed whisper Nanny breathed made a younger Dallea strain even more to catch every word. "Towering pillars of gold, rising far above everyone's heads! The vast lineup of guards, ready to protect at any cost! The clustered towns and markets all surrounding the palace, and by Yggdrasil's great name, I would give anything just to see the palace behind the setting sun once more!"

"I am finished, would you care to see?" Asked Nanny, pulling Dallea from her thoughts.

"Yes please." Nanny twisted the stool around so Dallea could see herself in the mirror, and once she realized the person staring back was indeed her reflection, she gasped.

Hesitant to touch it, yet harvesting the urge to stroke it, her hand paused right before it made contact with the beautiful braid Nanny had somehow managed to twirl out of her hair. She eventually let her fingertips graze the braid delicately, and to her delight it stayed firm and rigid.

"Oh Nanny! It is wonderful!" Dallea's awed whisper barely escaped her mouth as she still gleaned the image of her hair through the mirror with unwavering attention. Nanny rest her hands gently on the girl's shoulder.

"I am truly glad you think so, M'Lady," she replied. Nanny let the cozy silence settle for a few heartbeats before she regretfully had to get Dallea downstairs. "Come now, I am sure your mother would like to speak with you before your carriage arrives."

Dallea gave one last long look before hopping off the stool and allowing Nanny to usher her out of the room.

In the foyer, Nanny and Dallea aimlessly looked around for her mother, but she was nowhere to be found. After a few moments of heavy silence, Dallea shuffled over to a large mirror that hung on the wall. She adjusted her dress so many times, she ended up worsening the state of it compared to when she had begun.

Nanny sensed her uneasiness, and after watching Dallea struggle with her dress, she joined the small girl, carefully removing her hands from the fabric and adjusting it herself. She paused for a second, her gaze meeting Dallea's through the mirror for a heartbeat, just long enough to see the flicker of fear race through her grass-green eyes.

Nanny smiled through the reflection, and she saw Dallea return one hesitantly. Nanny squeezed her shoulders for a brief moment, and was about to turn away when she realized Dallea had her hand tightly clasped around her skirt. Nanny looked down at Dallea, and the girl looked back up at her.

"I am scared, Nanny."

"I know." Nanny watched, surprised, as Dallea buried her face in her skirts and wrapped her small arms around her waist. For a second she was stiff, but she eventually returned the hug, rubbing Dallea's back in a soothing fashion. "I also know that you will manage just fine."

"I will miss you, Nanny."

Nanny paused before replying. "I will miss you as well, Dallea."

They stood in tight embrace with one another for several heartbeats before Nanny realized it was time she took her leave. Gently prying the small girl off of her skirts, she gave her one last broad smile. "Be good, use your manners, and remember not to get into any trouble!"

Nanny accepted Dallea's smile, and the small girl watched as Nanny briskly strode to the other side of the room, passing through the doorway at the same time as her mother. Dallea heard Nanny's slight "M'Lady" and saw her dip into a slight curtsy before disappearing.

Her mother seemed to float across the room, that may have been because her dress was so long it pooled out on the floor. She stopped a few feet away from her daughter, inspecting her thoroughly from every possible angle. Once satisfied, she cast her eyes down towards Dallea's bare feet and frowned.

"Where are your shoes, Dearest?"

Dallea heard the slight scolding in her mothers chiming tone. "Nanny never gave me any shoes, Mother."

Her mother thrust her chin in the air and flared her nostrils. "Dallea Lynae, where are your manners?!"

Dallea swallowed while giving a low curtsy to her mother. "Good morning, Mother. Nanny did not come this morning with any shoes."

Her mother's eye still held a hint of disapproval, despite her saying; "Better. I left them on your nightstand, and noticed you did not take them when I went in to check on you." She revealed a pair of blue fancy slippers. "Now what do you say?"

"Thank you very much, Mother."

Her mother handed her the slippers, and Dallea stepped into the quickly before taking her mother's hand and trying to match her wide strides.

"You will not last long in the grand palace of Asgard with no manners, Dally. Remember that."

Dallea heard the affection in her mother's voice, but could not help but wonder why she insisted on being so strict. Jania was an extremely beautiful woman, with bright blond hair and large blue eyes. She was a singer, one of the most acclaimed in all of Asgard. Dallea wondered frequently if Jania's pride was wounded when she gave birth to such an eyesore, and tried to make up for it by drilling every little ladylike thought into her head, until Dallea could repeat it backwards while sleeping.

"Are you paying attention?"

Dallea shook her head slightly. "I beg your pardon, mother. I was merely lost in excitement for a moment."

"You are a terrible liar, Dally." Jania briefly held a frown, before masking it behind a cheery smile, though her true thoughts lingered in her tone. "No matter, the more you demand yourself to think such a way, the more you will truly be that way. Remember that."

"Alright, mother." Dallea tried not to sound bored at another one of Jania's rambles.

They soon were at the carriage, and Jania helped Dallea into its depths while double checking the luggage herself. After she was satisfied, and had made the Coachman extremely uncomfortable, she joined her daughter in the carriage.

The Coachman wiped his brow hastily and breathed a sigh of relief. He had heard of the poor maids and stable boys who had received harsh criticism from Jania when their work did not live up to her perfectionist standards. He scrambled to his perch and got the carriage moving, and in no time Dallea was straining to see the last glimpses of her home as it slowly vanished beyond the horizon.

She turned forward again, her back already aching from the ramrod straight posture she had to display when in Jania's presence. She kept a wary eye on her mother as she slowly sank into the cushions. What was the point in having fine fabrics if one has to simply stare forlornly at them?

Dallea successfully melted into the painfully bright pink seat, relishing the feeling of a curved back when beside her mother, who was fortunately far too lost in thought to see what her daughter was doing.

Dallea decided to count that as a blessing.

* * *

><p>Loki pawed at the collar of his shirt as it strangled him, while scowling moodily at the mirror. The maid that had arrived with the loathful attire was still outside the door by his fathers orders, making sure that he wouldn't slink away.<p>

He wore a bright green vest and black pants, no doubt chosen since he favored green and black. However, he did not favor the dreadful snot green that looked as if someone had sneezed on his chest.

How did anyone like this color? Loki thought while regretfully turning to the door to be escorted to the main hall. He could only imagine some stupid commoner reason, such as it made them recall fondly of the flu season, where everyone they cared for was ejecting the awful color.

He pushed open the door and glowered at the maid who all but turned up her nose at him as a reply. She made the motion of sweeping him down the hall, as if he was just another dust particle she had to get rid of. It would not have surprised Loki if she favored him as much as if he was.

"Loki." He couldn't tell whether his mother was greeting or scolding him, and he refused to raise his head to see. He kicked the floor, outright ignoring everyone around him, which just so happened to be his 'family'. Though real families don't make an intruder waltz into their house and force their own son to interact with them.

At least in Loki's mind.

His mother lightly touched his shoulder. "Listen well, Loki. I will in no way tolerate this behavior. Our guests will soon arrive, and I don't need your sulking to ruin today. Now, chin up and smile, please."

Loki blew through his nose in a very prolonged and exasperated way before raising his eyes off the floor and to his mother's face. She nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"I know you're not incapable of smiling," she almost teased, drawing a ghost of a grin onto her son's face. "It's a start, but not quite."

Loki smiled. Frigga always managed to coax one out of him.

"There we are! Now, our guests will be arriving shortly, and we need to be waiting for them outside when they come. Why don't you go talk to Thor while me and your father work out all the last-minute details." Frigga gestured to his perfectly groomed brother who was also fidgeting in his tight vest, which was a vibrant red color. Loki nodded absently while making his way to Thor, taking his sweet time in walking a few paces. It seemed the multiple vases became enticing, all of a sudden.

"Hello, Thor."

Loki squinted at his older brother who was a good foot taller than him. Thor turned, looking down at Loki and smiling brilliantly, as always. "Hello to you as well, Loki. I see they shoved you in one of these as well."

Thor pointed to his chest, indicating the vest. Loki nodded.

"I think I'll suffocate before our guest even arrives," Thor pulled at his neck as if to further push his statement, despite Loki knowing exactly how he felt. "Speaking of which, are you excited?"

"No," Loki scowled, moving to take his place at Thor's side. They faced the courtyard alone, as their parents still were attending some adult nonsense, most likely as all adults do, Loki thought. That was probably why his 'guest' was late.

"Well, it seems as if you are the only one here who isn't," Thor said. "I would think you would be glad at a chance to have a companion, brother. After all, I can't be in all of your classes."

"Don't remind me," Loki said. "But as I see it, Father is simply getting some commoner to trail me everywhere I go to force-feed a message down my throat."

"I'm sure it won't be as terrible as you expect. A lot of my friends were commoners."

"Yes, but all of your friends are big brutes who swing around wooden weapons and fight all day. If someone like that comes, than these next months are going to be a nightmare."

"Maybe I'll let them know how you feel, my friends, I mean." Thor said, turning to Loki a bit.

His already pale face turned even more white as he looked at Thor. "You wouldn't"

Thor smiled a bit, and Loki stuck out his lower lip and began to plead, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Come on, Thor. You know I didn't _mean _anything."

Just then a large and extremely _pink _carriage pulled up, and Loki had to fall silent, giving Thor one last look before facing forward. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw his mother stand by his side, but his attention was on the carriage, his mouth turned down in a troubled frown. _Pink?! _His companion was arriving in a _pink _carriage? What kind of companion was this?

Suddenly a horrible thought dawned on him. _No,_ he thought desperately. _No. For Yggdrasil's sake, please let this be some sick joke. . ._

The singer his mother told him about - Althea or something like that - stepped out of the carriage then turned around beckoning her child, who Loki knew right away from the blue skirts was a girl.

_Might as well kill myself right now,_ Loki thought.

If he had thought he couldn't feel any worse after realizing he would have to be spending time with a _commoner __girl_, he had no idea what was to come next.

The little girl stepped outside, eyes on the ground and nearly stumbling as she shook from fright and embarrassment, that took form on her face as a deep blush. Loki looked away and felt bile rise in his throat. He blinked, trying to rid his eyes of the girl. Recoiling slightly, he declared right then he was the unluckiest person in all of the nine realms.

For Yggdrasil's sake, that girl was _hideous!_


	3. The First Day

**Things in this story were a bit too messy for my liking, so I cleaned it up. A few similar themes will happen in the next few chapters, but the story will be moving in a better direction! Yay!**

**At the very end there's a bit of spooky stuff. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to.**

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><p>Loki couldn't even look at the girl beside him. It hadn't even been an hour since her arrival, and he was already so physically disgusted by the sight of her, he knew he would throw up if she tried to speak to him.<p>

Her mother - Jania, he heard Frigga call her - was overly enthusiastic, greeting the King and Queen of Asgard as if they were old friends. Her and Frigga held hands as they caught up on the last few years they were apart.

_Ugh, _Loki thought, rolling his eyes to the tall ceiling. _Adult sentimentality._

Dallea was so afraid she forgot to breathe.

The Prince whom she was supposed to accompany for the next year stood roughly a foot away from her. He hadn't said anything, so she stayed silent too.

Asgard was as beautiful as Nanny described, but Dallea was so light headed she couldn't enjoy any of it. She could tell, by the way everyone looked away from her, that they all thought she was hideous. Dallea bowed her head, ashamed.

"Have you two even said hello?" Frigga and Jania moved to stand in front of them after a few minutes of tense silence.

There was a gleam in Jania's eye that made Dallea nervous. So despite her ever growing hysteria, she pursed her lips and turned towards the prince. He glanced at her, alarmed that she would make the first move.

"M-my name is Dallea." She proceeded to curtsy, looking at the princes feet.

Loki just looked at her for a few moments, and Dallea wanted to die of embarrassment. Frigga cleared her throat noisily, and Loki sighed in annoyance.

"I'm Loki," he offered. His tone was flat, and it made Dallea intertwine her fingers anxiously. She looked up at her mother, unsure where to continue the conversation.

Jania looked as if she was a second away from shedding her civil façade. She glared down at her daughter, silently commanding her to speak - to be _polite._

Fueled by the fear of her mother's disappointment, Dallea's wide eyes met Prince Loki's for the first time.

"I, um, I ... You have a ... It's really beautiful here." Dallea sounded out of breath, and Loki stared at her as if she had something foul on her face. "I've always wanted to come to Asgard."

"Loki loves wandering around," Frigga interjected. Loki looked at his mother, whose eyes flashed in warning, telling him to drop the attitude. She turned to Dallea and smiled radiantly. "I'm sure he would love to show you around sometime."

Dallea managed a weak smile as a response. Queen Frigga was as beautiful as Nanny had described. Dallea noticed how the queen looked into her eyes, not even noticing the rest of her face.

"Would I?" Loki murmured. Frigga looked down at him, her face twisting into a scowl. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"That is enough, Loki," said she, firmly and politely all at once. She turned to Jania and Dallea, a repentant look on her face. "I apologize for his behavior. It has been a rough week, but I am sure, Dallea, you will enjoy your stay."

Dallea nodded, blushing and looking at her shoes. Loki resisted the urge to gag as his mother let go of him. Jania brushed a tiny strand of hair from her daughters face. Dallea looked up, and Jania raised her eyebrows as a reply.

"I need to go find your father and Thor," Frigga declared to her son. "I expect you to treat our guests with more respect, Loki."

The prince looked away from his mother, staring at something beyond her head. Frigga's gaze lingered on him for a second before looking at Dallea once more. The young girl brightened at being recognized for the third time.

"Good day, Dallea. If you require anything during your stay - anything at all, I invite you to seek me out." Frigga nodded at the girl, and she deeply curtsied. The queen then departed, with Jania hot on her heels.

Dallea watched them go until they marched right out of sight. The servants that had greeted her had long dispersed, so the hall they were in was practically empty. She shifted from one foot to the other.

Loki saw her movements out of the corner of his eye, and rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand it anymore. He thrust his nose into the air, tilting his head towards Dallea so she knew he was addressing her.

"I'm tired," he declared. Dallea blinked. They had not even had dinner! "I'm going to bed."

He took a few strides away, and panic rose in Dallea's throat. What was she suposed to do? Follow him? That was what she was there for, but if he was turning in for the day ... she didn't know what to do.

"B-but are we not supposed to ...?" Dallea stammered, dismay making her take a step towards his retreating back. Prince Loki didn't turn to signify he heard her, and he continued towards a set of double doors, slipping into the hallway beyond. Dallea sat back on her heels, finishing her statement in a meek whisper. "Stay together?"

* * *

><p>The next day, Dallea tried to mask her bored sigh as a regular breath. She attempted to busy her hands. They flit nervously from the hem of her skirts to each other, then found themselves winding her hair, and the pattern repeated.<p>

Dallea watched Prince Loki practice archery from a long distance away, not wanting to sit on the grass and ruin her skirts. She had been sent away by the instructor after Prince Loki had thrown a most unroyal tantrum. The instructor finally caved, shooing the poor girl away, a confused expression on her face. She was going to mention how the King had specifically said for her not to leave the Prince's side, but the harsh glare the instructor gave made the argument die in her throat.

So there she stood, watching from a far distance and hoping the King and Queen wouldn't be too upset with her if she just watched. As long as she was far away from Prince Loki so she wouldn't accidentally kindle his spiteful rage, she was content.

She pulled at her collar that tightly encircled her neck. The sun beat down on her ferociously. She could almost feel herself burning in the intense heat, and longed to walk to the shady trees. But Prince Loki and his furious temper was between her and her desired destination.

"Not fair!" Her thoughts cried, and she fully agreed. Dallea blinked a few times, as if she was seeing something strange. That voice didn't sound like her own. She heard it again, and this time she knew it wasn't in her head.

"You cheated, just admit it!"

Dallea turned, expecting to see someone glaring, the mean comments directed towards her, but there was no one in sight. Still the complaining continued, over the hill that was obstructing her view from whoever was speaking.

She hesitated, glancing back at Prince Loki, who was fully engrossed in the lesson. Surely she wouldn't be missed for a few seconds. . .

Just a quick look, she promised herself while starting to climb the hill, the sweltering heat resulting in her sweating like a pig and her breath coming in short gasps. Once at the top, Dallea was sure she would fall over out of exhaustion. Her vision blurred and she panted, her back slumped and her hands on her knees. Her mother would be appalled.

After her vision had swam back into focus, she knew she couldn't survive if she didn't get to shade. She would be baked in a few moments, or at least it felt that way.

The voices escaped her attention as she staggered to where she expected shelter to be, but she remembered them all too violently as she bumped into someone wearing extremely hard clothing.

"Hey!" The voice that she had heard yelling from across the hill belonged to a girl a good head taller than Dallea. She had harsh hazel eyes that met Dalleas meek green ones after the girl turned around. She had long night black hair that was pulled back tightly in a ponytail. Dallea realized with a sinking heart that the girl was wearing armor and holding a very sharp looking spear, and currently the girl's fiery gaze rested upon her.

Anger was briefly stifled by confusion as the girl stepped back and examined Dallea, her gaze lingering on Dalleas face, making the shorter girl go scarlet. Her palms were suddenly coated with cold sweat; in fact, apart from the bright blush of embarrassment, her face had drained of color, labeling her as scared far more effectively than a huge wooden sign.

The girl cocked her head to the side, and Dallea noticed from the rapid rise and fall of her chest that the girl had obviously been doing some kind of physical action, most likely something aggressive from the wild gleam in her eye. Dallea felt two feet tall, and jumped when the girl finally spoke.

"Who are you?" Her tone wasn't overly kind, but Dallea released her breath when she heard no trace of anger. Just curiosity, and maybe... fascination? Dallea cleared her dry throat noisily.

"D-Dallea."

The girl nodded briefly, taking in the information, but not willing to share her own name.

"I have not seen you around here before." It was not a question, yet Dallea saw from the expectance in her still rather adrenaline-filled eyes that she wanted an answer.

"I-I'm new here," Dallea tried to sound confident, after all, she did have a purpose for being there, just not that exact place. Instead, she seemed to deflate even more. "I am supposed to be accompanying Prince Loki. . ."

Dallea swallowed, realizing her mistake when the girl raised an eyebrow. She wasn't accompanying him right then. Would she get in trouble? Would she be the victim of this girls yelling?

Instead of the girls face darkening, it lit up in amusement, and Dallea was so surprised she thought she might faint. The girl offered a knowing grin, and Dalleas mouth opened slightly in sheer shock.

"Sick of him already? Don't worry; I think you've set the record for how long a commoner has been around him. A night - isn't that the record, Hogun?" The girl turned to speak with whoever was behind her.

A young boy no older than the girl drew closer, but stopped as he studied Dallea. His voice was shockingly deep. "Yes, a night and a half, I believe."

Hogun had slanted eyes and a mouth that seemed to naturally scowl. His jet black hair was tied at the back of his head, bringing all of his features into sharp focus.

The girl turned back to Dallea, and leaned a bit closer for secrecy. "He's a tad difficult to get along with, you see." That, Dallea thought, she agreed with.

Two other boys joined Hogun, but they drew back upon seeing Dallea. They began whispering and glancing at her occasionally. Dallea went back to being self conscious.

"Oh, the name's Sif, by the way," The girl finally said, extending her hand towards Dallea as courtesy at last dawned on her. Jania would be horrified, Dallea knew, but it was obvious that her and Sif were not alike. Sifs tanned and calloused hand clashed considerably with Dalleas small, pale one.

The three boys beyond them silenced their murmurings and turned to the two girls. Sif turned, pointing at the leftmost boy in the trio. On his hip was a scabbard that harboured a shiny foil. The boy nodded upon being acknowledged.

"That's Fandral." Her hand skipped over Hogun, and went to the final boy, who sported a shock of red hair. He was clutching a mind-bogglingly huge axe. "And that's Volstagg."

Volstagg must have been a foot taller than all of them, but the smile he offered was the kindest.

She stepped aside, revealing Dallea and raising her arms in the smaller girls direction as if displaying a new toy. Dallea felt like one as the three boys examined her skeptically. "Everyone, this is Dallea."

"Hello," she offered, raising her hand in a slight wave before ducking down and fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, embarrassment leaking into her features.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Volstagg stepped forward, smiling. Dallea saw smile lines around his eyes, which made him seem even more jovial. He extended his hand, that dwarfed Dalleas when she shook it.

"The feeling is mutual," Dallea responded, still mumbling with her chin on her neck. However, she never broke eye contact with him, and she even offered her own watery smile.

Volstagg noticed from the awkward way she shook his hand that she didn't meet many new people. He saw the hesitant way she rose her chin. She wasn't very pretty, and even if that was slightly rude, the truth is often rude.

When they parted, Volstagg stepped aside and Fandral extended his hand next. Instead of getting closer to Dallea and looking down at her as Volstagg did, Fandral leaned forward, arching his back so their heads were at the same level, all the while never moving his feet. The height difference between them made it seem like he was bowing to her. His smile had more of a charming feel to it, as if he spent hours perfecting it in the reflection of his cutlery. Dallea didn't put that past him, especially since his hair was styled so expertly.

"I heard about a girl coming and accompanying Prince Loki, and I must say, I'm surprised you haven't tore your hair out yet," Fandral said. This time she felt more confident, grinning as she received the compliment - or at least she took it as a compliment. "As you may have already guessed, we are some of Prince Loki's few friends. We know first hand how difficult he can be."

_"Friend_ is a strong word," Hogun, who still hadn't made an attempt to come closer to Dallea, said sullenly. He finally turned to Dallea, bowing slightly in her direction. She was taken aback, not sure how to respond, but eventually bowing in return. She felt ridiculous, but the four people around her didn't blink twice.

"So, Dallea," Sif said after introductions were over, trying out Dallea's name on her tongue. "What brings you wandering our way? Does Prince Loki require something?"

Dallea's cheeks turned slightly pink again, and she studied her feet, clasping her hands behind her back so she wouldn't be tempted to chew on her nails. She drew circles with her feet while muttering her reply. She didn't know how they would react.

"Well, not exactly. He had sent me away and I heard someone yelling. . ." She swallowed, her eyes flicking up to see their reaction. Once again she anticipated anger, but they just exchanged glances.

"That was Sif, after I emerged victorious in our sparing match," Fandral laughed, dodging Sif's hand as she reached out to punch him. Her face held annoyance, but at seeing the three boys burst into laughter, it wavered then all together evaporated. She looked to Dallea, who's eyes were growing wide at their strange reaction.

"Fandral cheated," Sif explained to Dallea. "He got Volstagg to surprise me from behind, then while I was distracted he disarmed me."

"Don't be so defensive, Sif," Volstagg grinned at her. "We were just making a humble warrior out of you. Besides, you won the seven rounds before hand."

"And I would have won the eighth if I hadn't been sparing with a horde of dishonest cheaters," Sif tried to become angry, but by the end of her statement she was smirking along with her friends.

Dallea looked from person to person as they laughed and smacked each other on the back. Hogun was a bit more reserved, but he omitted a chuckle or two. It was obvious the friendship they shared was special. Dallea had never been in the presence of such mirth.

She decided she rather liked it.

"Would you like a rematch, then, Sif?" Fandral challenged, his hand resting on his sheathed foil.

"If you dare to fight me without Volstagg holding me back," Sif shot back confidently, brandishing her own spear. They made their way to the large fenced in ring, jumping the dangerous looking blockade as if they were made to do so. Dallea blinked, wondering how she hadn't noticed the massive structure before.

"Do you wish to watch?" Volstagg turned to Dallea at the last second, remembering she was present. Dallea hesitated, but the boy seemed excited to have another person join in the fun. She nodded ecstatically, and Volstagg gestured her to follow.

She was lead to a crevice above the arena walls, a perch that allowed them to look upon the fight without risk of getting hurt. Dallea looked down, noticing how far above the ground she was, and grinned.

* * *

><p>Dallea laughed harder than she ever had at the joke Fandral just made about Sif's fighting style.<p>

Dallea was having a grand time, watching as the four warriors alternated from fighting to sitting beside her. When they were beside her, they jested and joked about their own fights and the ones they were witnessing. While in the arena their good nature was glazed over as the spur of the fight overcame them.

Sif hardly ever sat out, always itching to fight, and when she did sit, she was constantly spinning her spear in her hand and cheering on the fighters. Although Sif was more serious than the other warriors, she intrigued Dallea the most. After all, the young girl had never seen a female dressed in mens battle armour before.

Fandral settled back, satisfied with the reaction he got from Dallea. She swung her feet merrily, her hands clasping the seat near her knees. She quite enjoyed watching them fight. Sif and Hogun were both excellent fighters, and they approached the battle like an art form. She was excited to witness who would come out victorious.

Volstagg turned towards her, about to speak, when he noticed something beyond her tiny shoulders. His eyes went wide. His voice was urgent.

"Prince Loki approaching, and he does not look like he is in a gaming mood..."

Fandral and Dallea both looked, and sure enough a severely sour-looking Prince Loki was making a beeline to the arena.

"Sif! Hogun! Prince Loki approaches!" Fandral yelled, gesturing for Dallea to climb off their sitting place. She descended down a few rickety stairs, then jumped the rest of the way. She landed squatting on the ground, standing quickly. Volstagg and Fandral followed suit, steadying Dallea when her legs wobbled from the unfamiliar action.

Sif and Hogun soon appeared climbing over the arena fence, and landing just as Prince Loki arrived.

He looked at Sif and Hogun as if they were vermin. "You do realize there is a door that you can walk through, yes?" Dallea couldn't help but feel scared. After all, Prince Loki was a prince for the Norn's sake! What if he got her into trouble for leaving him?

She instinctively brought her hands to her mouth, but changed their course and swiped a strand of hair from her face. The last thing she needed was a prince that loathed her to see her biting her nails.

"Climbing over the fence is half the fun," Volstagg defended his friends, earning a distasteful glare from Prince Loki.

"What you classify as 'fun' is noticably different than what I do," he responded haughtily.

"Obviously," Hogun murmured.

Prince Loki either didn't hear, or chose to ignore Hogun, because instead of replying he turned to Dallea who shriveled under his dark glare.

"Come, Peasant." She immediately started to follow him as he spun on his heel and took long strides to distance himself from her. She turned and waved at the four people she just had the time of her life with. They waved back, their solemn faces making Dallea nervous.

* * *

><p>Hours later Prince Loki sat stoic beside Dallea at the table. He had gotten fury from his parents when they found out he had sent her away. They were now entitled to spend every waking hour with one another, and typically, Prince Loki was convinced it was all Dallea's fault.<p>

He turned his chair away from her and ate his food sullenly, never glancing up at any point during his meal. Dallea knew trying to get on his good side was useless. After all, some of his only _'friends'_ got his venomous glares, so if he hated her, it looked like she was stuck in a bad position.

At least Sif was sitting beside her, even though the girl was more focused on eating and laughing with Fandral to pay any attention to Dallea.

Dallea swallowed hard, staring at her plate in front of her. She had never had anything like it before, seeing as her mother more often preferred exotic dishes with fancy tastes.

The last thing Dallea wanted was to sound stuck up, but she was hungry and didn't know how to eat it. With a fork? With a spoon? Why did royals have to supply so much cutlery? Swallowing her nervousness, Dallea tapped Sif on the arm.

"What is this called?" Dallea whispered to Sif, unsure what to make of the foreign meal she had been pushing around on her plate.

Sif turned looked at what Dallea was eating, and then looked at her questioningly. "You have never tried Fårikål before?" Dallea shook her head, and Sif turned fully to her. "It's just mutton, cabbage, and some black pepper. Try it, it's delicious."

Dallea saw a fork lodged in Sif's hand, so Dallea daintily picked up her own untouched fork. Sif watched intently as Dallea got a forkful of what looked like meat, and brought it towards her face. She glanced at Sif's intense eyes before she let it into her mouth. Her features brightened considerably. "You're right," Dallea said between chews. "It is delicious!"

"Told you," Sif nodded, getting her own forkful before turning back to Dallea. "So, where do you come from?"

"A village in Alfheim," Dallea responded. "It's near a large river, and a lot of people come to trade in the spring."

"Alfheim?" Sif asked, her eyes brightening. "I hear many people talk about how beautiful it is there."

"They are all correct, it is the most beautiful place," Dallea exclaimed, her voice glazing over as she dreamily remembered her home. "The air is so fresh because of all the trees, and at night there are so many stars- oh! And the beaches are so warm!"

"Do you miss it there yet?" Sif asked. Dallea looked at her, furrowing her brow.

"Maybe a little," Dallea admitted, shrugging slightly. She tried to keep her voice light, but a bit of saddness was already creeping into her tone. "I miss a few people already, but Asgard is very beautiful too!"

"Yes it is," Sif agreed, chewing a bit of cabbage thoughtfully. "But I have not visisted Alfheim yet. I bet it will be fantastic."

She said _'yet'_ so certainly. There was no room for questioning whether or not she would fulfill her goal. The fire that burned in her eyes, on her tongue, Dallea envied her strength. She sat back a bit, watching Sif delve into her own mind. A question bubbled into her mind, one that she had been itching to inquire. Summoning courage, she asked:

"Sif." The young warrior snapped out of her reverie, blinking and looking down at Dallea. "Why is it that you decided to become a warrior?"

Sif was silent for a long time, or so it felt like to Dallea, who was certain she had crossed the line. She felt a drop of sweat on her brow, she cringed as Sif blinked, then blinked again. . .

"Why not?" Sif didn't sound angry, but passion was present in the words she spoke. "A woman, or girl, _any_ female being, has the right to every privilege a man does. It just takes men a lot longer to see this. It took an awful lot of time for Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun to see this, but they did. I'm a sword smith, not a dame. I'm not a lady, but a warrior."

Dallea couldn't meet her gaze. She looked down at her plate, scolding herself mentally. "I-I meant no disrespect. . ."

"I did not take it as an insult," Sif replied. "Not many people have asked, but I always have my answer in case they do."

Dallea's mouth formed a small 'o'. She wasn't sure what to say, but words came automatically to her lips before she could comprehend them. Once she did, she was mortified at herself.

"Do you think you could teach me?"

Dallea knew this time she had done it. She was too forward - they had only met that very day! Who was she to go asking such a thing? Yet she admitted she wanted to learn. Fighting seemed almost graceful when one was skilled at it, like a grand dance between foes. Both opponents cat and mouse, never sure which one would arise victorious.

Perhaps that was the reason she wanted to learn so badly. In a place such as Alfheim, elves like her were grown to respect art. That was why her mother was so esteemed.

"If you really want me to," Sif responded, and Dallea thought the warrior looked rather pleased with herself. "But it will take a lot of effort and dedication on your part. Warriors aren't made out of goose feathers, you know."

Dallea's face brightened, and she nodded enthusiastically. When she had another bite of her Fårikål, it was cold, but she couldn't care less. All she focused on was how friendly Sif's voice was when she asked Dallea about the military of Alfheim.

Someone was kind. That was all that mattered.

* * *

><p>The guard was exhausted. His shoulders were drooping, and when he squinted his eyes to block out the light of the shining moon, he was reminded how much he wished to close them. He shuffled through his last rounds without full comprehension of what was going on around him.<p>

Though he had no right to complain - he had spent his scheduled sleeping time celebrating his young daughters birthday. Dealing with screaming children had added extra weight to his eyelids.

He was almost finished, and it made the itchiness in his eyes a bit more bearable. The guard was patrolling near a large forest that looked haunted in the shadows of the moon. A breeze made the leaves rustle and branches collide with each other ominously.

The guard ignored the groaning of the forest - until he heard a deep hissing sound.

He was suddenly on high alert, his ears and eyes trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Was it a reptile of some sort? The guard waved the burning torch in his hand back and forth, but refused to go any closer to the forest.

The hissing died suddenly, and all of Asgard seemed to hold its breath. The grass at his feet stirred, and he squinted into the deeper darkness.

Instead of venturing into the forest, he decided the best course of action was to calmly report the sound he heard. The guard spun on his heel, ready to sprint for his life.

He took one step before he noticed there was someone blocking his way.

The guard stiffened, a roar of emotions assaulted his mind. His jaw slackened, but he managed to sputter: "Helga?"

His youngest daughter stood barefoot, two paces away from him. She was motionless and her expression held no recognition as her eyes bore into the guards soul. She wore a simple white dress her father had never before seen, but it was stained brown due to the disgusting state she was in.

Mud covered most of her face and her bare arms. She had yet to move - yet to blink.

"Helga," the guard whispered. His voice was hoarse and it shook with terror. "My baby..."

Helgas eyes were black in the moons light. Her shoulders were slumped, but after a few moments she rolled them backwards into a rigid posture.

"How are you here?" the guard muttered. He was beginning to doubt the eerie sight before him. Helga's eye twitched.

"Don't worry, Daddy." His youngest daughters voice was high pitched, but carried no trace of fear. The sound of it contrasted with her clenched fists. "He doesn't need to hurt you."

The guard didn't bother to try and comprehend her words. He heard a sharp hiss in his ear and forced his legs to move. He ran, and left the surreal clone of his daughter behind.

He didn't get far.

The guard didn't know how he fell, all he knew was that the grass in his open mouth wasn't welcome. The torch went flying, and the dry ground caught fire. He spat out any dirt in his mouth, and felt a hand grab his shoulder. He was heaved onto his back, forced to look at his daughters image once more.

"Daddy, he doesn't want to hurt you," Helga said, cocking her head to the side. Her teeth, he saw, were dyed pink, and her breath reeked of spoiled meat.

The awful stench of smoke hit his nostrils and the guard gagged. Behind his daughter, he saw something stir in the woods. The guard froze, watching as a shapeless being flopped out of the forest. It was still for a few moments, until he noticed that the dark being was dragging itself closer to where he lay,

Helga placed her foot on the guards chest with unbelievable strength, and wouldn't move despite the tears welling in his eyes.

"Helga, please," he cried out, struggling to get free. "Please! I'm begging you ..."

"Don't scream, Daddy." Was the only thing she said.

The thing that had emerged from the forest loomed over the guards fallen form. It watched as he squirmed and hollered, trying to get someone's attention. But no one came.

The guards screams had long since ceased when a few patrols wandered over to investigate the smoke that was curling into the night sky. The only evidence a fire had existed anywhere near there was a patch of burnt ground. It was four feet long in length, and not very wide.

The dirt looked like it had been undisturbed for years. The guards walked right over it.

Ten feet below where they left a defined boot print on the mud lay a body, scorched beyond recognition and dismembered. On its chest, the royal seal of Asgard was placed delicately. The still fresh blood seeped into the dirt, but remained hidden.


End file.
